Trust McKay
by Carinthe
Summary: Trust McKay to disobey your orders, drag you through hell, nearly blow you up and save your skinny ass. John Sheppard does. He learned the hard way…
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Set early during the first season. The original idea for this story mutated into 'Lifeline', in which Ford replaced Sheppard as the main character. However, caught up in the spirit of equal opportunity whumping, I couldn't leave it at that. So, Shep got his tale after all, and poor Rodney got whumped twice… Hope it's not getting too repetitive _:-)

_AN2: Sorry for any (unintentional, honestly!) butchering of the English language. To me, it 'sounded' okay but feel free to point out my mistakes..._

**_-_**

_**Trust McKay**_

**_or: Semper Fidelis _**

**_-_**

'_Semper Fidelis' is the motto of the United States Marine Corps. It means 'Always Faithful', an everlasting loyalty to corps and country but also to your brothers (and sisters) in arms._

_Though, by default, the Airforce doesn't care much for the Marine section of the military, I personally find their creed inspiring. And very applicable to our current situation. And, make no mistake, many members of the non-military part of this expedition also honour the Marines' motto. Some in more unique ways than others…._

_Maj. John Sheppard_

_**-**_

**1**

**_-_**

Trust McKay to make my day go to hell…

But let me start at the beginning.

I had reassured Elizabeth that this would be an easy mission.

Famous last words. Words that had come back to bite me in the ass.

And you can interpret that quite literally. Take it from me: it hurts like a sonofabitch to get shot in the bum!

My left leg gave in immediately and half a second later I found myself dumbly staring at an alien ant family with a mouth full of dirt.

That unplanned fall probably saved my life, though. Instead of hitting me dead on -pun intended - the next bullet struck the Kevlar at a small angle, causing it to partially glance off before burying itself deeply into my back.

At the time, I wasn't particularly grateful. It felt like a nuclear explosion of pain going of in my back, with white-hot tendrils fanning out over my entire body. And the fall-out fried my brain, distorting reality and reducing mental processes to a bare minimum.

While the shot itself was not immediately lethal, internal damage, blood loss and shock would eventually get the job done just as efficiently.

Especially since I seemed unable to move while a horde of mad ex-trading partners with impressive firepower was about to descend upon me. Like a swarm of angry bees buzzing in on the hapless honey thief…

Mmmmm. Buzzing… I definitely heard buzzing. Or was that just the rushing of blood speeding through my veins? Or should I say rushing _out_ of my veins…

Honey thief would technically also be incorrect. We didn't really _steal_ anything. We took back what was ours, honest finders and all. And it wasn't even edible.

It was damn uncomfortable to lie on, too. With all those nooks, nicks, crannies, bumps and fancy whatnots you'd expect on an alien gizmo.

Mmmmm. Sure hope I didn't break anything in my less than graceful fall. One tiny dent or chipped off corner and McKay would kill me.

Angry shouting was definitely drawing nearer now.

Seems like McKay would have to get in line…

"Major!"

Then again, patience has never been the man's forte.

Trust stubborn Canadian scientists to unrepentantly disobey a direct order…

"Major!" McKay's voice now sounded ridiculously loud, like he was yelling straight into my ear.

Hadn't I told him in no uncertain terms to get through the gate? Hadn't I expected him to reach the safe haven of Atlantis? Hadn't I intended to die alone on this godforsaken backwater planet?

But all the fight seemed to leave me, as my mind was getting increasingly fuzzy. Even the pain had faded somewhat to a more bearable level.

I would have pried open heavy eyelids, eyelids I didn't remember closing earlier, at my own initiative eventually, but a rough slap on my cheek sped up the process significantly. The world spun nauseatingly for a moment, but two spots of bright blue proved to be an excellent anchor to focus on.

A pair of eyes.

McKay's eyes. Wide-open, panic and hysteria plainly screaming within them.

Less than four inches away from my face.

"Wahd!" I had meant to say 'What the fuck do you think you're doing', but for some reason my vocal cords refused to cooperate and for a second, the world greyed out.

Must be going into shock.

Scratch that. Descending into the pits of hell seemed a far more appropriate description.

Especially since I suddenly found myself dangling upside down, swaying alarmingly and banging into something firm periodically. It took me an unordinary long while to realise I had been slung unceremoniously over someone's shoulder in a parody of a fireman's carry.

Trust our resident self-proclaimed genius not to know the _proper_ execution of the technique is to keep the victims head resting against your back while holding his legs in front of you…

Really, the other way around is much more uncomfortable, never mind impractical. At that time, however, I didn't think for more than a second about how he actually managed to hold on to me in this weird position, ascribing it to dumb luck (the emphasis being on 'dumb'). The unconventional way of dangling provided me with an excellent close-up view of McKay's thighs pumping madly up and down as he ran full-speed on his mad dash through the forest.

The ever-present angry shouting of our pursuers punctuated by several loud gun shots still seemed to draw unerringly closer, finally spurring McKay to switch to a higher gear. Which was still pathetically slow.

Suddenly he staggered, nearly tripping himself up before awkwardly regaining his balance and picking up speed again.

Trust our geeky out-of-shape couch potato to stumble over his own feet at the most inopportune of times…

Perhaps I should add some cross-country runs to McKay's schedule.

Sometimes, it frightened me that we allowed someone so clumsy that he's liable to break his neck tripping over his own feet, to tinker with utterly sensitive nuclear devices. More often than not, that thought was followed by a nagging little voice in the back of my head yelling: "Why the f did you put such a liability on your team?'.

Because of those aforementioned nuclear devices. Awkward and uncoordinated as he might seem during physical exercise, the second he touched one of his numerous doodads his usually twitching and flailing hands became as nimble and deft as a master pianist performing Mozart. And although he may be sweating and panting and bitching and generally nearing a heart-attack from getting worked up about the possibility of imminent death, those hands won't tremble.

Hell, he could fabricate a bomb out of an MRE, or put a crashed puddle jumper back together using nothing more than a role of duct tape, the inventiveness of his brilliant mind and sheer stubbornness.

Yes, McKay was a man of many virtues… which were extremely well hidden beneath layers and layers, and even more layers, of snarkiness and acridity, self-centeredness and social ineptness.

But he made an exceptionally lousy long-distance runner.

He stumbled, yet again. This time, the god that watches over unbalanced geeks was obviously looking the other way, because we went down. Hard.

You know that bullshit they say about stars dancing in front of your eyes? Well, I saw them. Whole frickin' galaxies of them…

Too preoccupied looking for the Milky Way, I didn't even notice McKay scramble upright again. The next thing I was fully aware of was a set of familiar thighs winking in and out of my clearing field of view.

Back on the run, then.

Though considerably slower than before. And as his speed decreased, the panting increased, exponentially. His laboured breathing was a dead give-away to our position for anyone with ears inside a one mile radius.

Yep, I _definitely_ needed to add some endurance running to McKay's schedule.

Suddenly, he changed directions very abruptly several times, leading me to wonder if he even still knew where he was heading.

Trust McKay to get lost on his way from the control room to his very own lab.

Oooookay, to be completely fair, maybe that malfunctioning transporter ought to take part of the blame for that as well.

Then, the world dropped from under us and dissolved into darkness.

I only knew I hadn't fallen unconscious again by virtue of the harsh wheezing emanating from the frantically heaving chest pillowing my face.

The pain no longer bothered me that much and I felt perfectly happy lying there, lazily floating nearer to unconsciousness with every passing second.

Trust McKay to disturb my bliss by blinding me with his flash light and pushing me off him, effectively awakening slumbering aches again.

But did he _have_ to be so damn sadistic as to put his hand exactly on the wound in my back?

I tried to curse him and every one of his ancestors going back all the way to prehistoric times, but managed nothing more than a pathetic little moan.

Evidently, it didn't impress him in the least, and the pain only intensified as he pushed down harder, all the while muttering quietly.

"'Fall back, I'll be right behind you…' _Rrrright_. You simply _had_ to get shot again, didn't you? Bet the hair works like a giant bullseye. Shoot the yeti. You are such a complete idiot, Sheppard. Hmpfff…"

He paused mid-rant, using his teeth to pull the cap of… hold on a second, was that a _needle_?

Hey, just because you are a doctor doesn't automatically mean you can at random stick a … Ouch!

Of all the places you could have hit my arm, you just _had_ to pick the nerve, didn't you!

The warm tingling feeling that had started in my arm soon wrapped me in the fuzzy cocoon of happy carelessness known to the medical profession as morphine.

What happened next was all just a hazy mist interspersed with brief moments of clarity.

It definitely involved lots of being dragged around by McKay, the scientist's erratic breathing the only sound breaking the silence of the forest.

Until a giant explosion blew my eardrums, racketed the ground and caused a brief but significant surge of adrenalin granting me a moment of increased lucidity.

Trust McKay to screw up tinkering with one of his doodads and thereby drawing the inhospitable natives' unwanted attention again.

I found myself languidly focussing on my top geek team member doing his worst impersonation of Rambo. Like his fireman's carry, it still needed a lot of work. While he was actually not a bad shot on the Atlantis shooting range, his aim in the field drastically needed improving.

Trust McKay to shoot himself in the foot, with that disturbing way his arm kept shaking.

But consciousness was swiftly floating away, and the last traces of concern were following at its heels.

The last thing I remembered, was getting slung over a shoulder, once again, and a thigh coming up to meet me.

_**-**_


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: I'm sorry for the delay; Real Life stuck his foot between the door and refused to be ignored... Anyways, thank you, Zedpm, for pointing out some mistakes in the first chapter (they should be fixed now...)! I'm afraid there will be more to follow, because late evening train rides are probably not the best setting for correcting your draft. _

**-**

**2**

**-**

The very first thing I noticed upon waking up, was that the world wasn't moving anymore. No running, tripping, tumbling or exploding, just a firm stable bed.

The second thing was the absence of McKay.

Funny how I'd grown quite accustomed to having the snarky scientist at my side, the only constant factor during the past ordeal, and now I strangely missed his presence…

Well, what had I been expecting, really? McKay didn't 'do Florence Nightingale', as he -mortally affronted- had informed me when I had woken up after my 'giant tick' problem to find him tapping away on his laptop in a nearby chair and begged for a sip of water to alleviate my sore throat.

Despite all the whining, I had been provided with some delicious ice chips faster than any nurse had ever managed to procure them before.

Today, it seemed, Florence was repressed by Phineas Fogg, cooped up in a lab fawning over the petty alien gizmo I had very nearly laid down my life for, doubtlessly driving his white-coated minions to near-insanity with his constant nagging, pausing only to curse me for having the audacity to fall on top of 'his precious'…

Damn. Sometimes my inner voice started to sound suspiciously similar to McKay ranting…

I supposed I ought to be grateful that the man _hadn't_ decided to stick around and treat me to one of his infamous tirades.

Nevertheless, hope soared briefly when a set of blue eyes appeared in my sight, only to fall again quickly when I recognized them as doctor Beckett's.

"Hi, doc…" I ventured tentatively, pleased to notice that my vocal cords were cooperating even though my throat felt like high noon in the Sahara.

"Hullo." Beckett smiled softly, but even in my drugged-induced haziness I noticed a deep sadness in his soulful eyes.

A straw was gently pressed against my parched lips and I gratefully accepted a few refreshing sips. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, lad." He muttered absent-mindedly as he fussed with the IV, a light frown marring his forehead. His eyes darted around quickly over the display of monitors, never fully meeting mine. Worry hung around him like a palpable cloud, and proved highly infectious. I was starting to feel decidedly unsettled myself.

Suddenly, my heart plummeted.

My legs!

I couldn't feel my legs!

Hadn't moved them since that fateful bullet had struck…

No! No, this couldn't be happening…

I'd rather have died on that godforsaken planet than spend the rest of my life being confined to a frickin' wheelchair!

Trust McKay to deny me a hero's death, and instead condemn me to the miserable excuse of a life as an invalid…

A panicked female yell startled me out of my wallowing in self-pity. "Code blue! He's crashing again!"

Beckett's head snapped up sharply and he took off like a bloodhound on a trail, shouting orders as he disappeared behind some privacy curtains. "Another dose of epinephrine! And get that defibrillator charged STAT!"

Whatever happened next behind those screens, I was only very vaguely aware of, as doctor Zelenka choose that exact moment to barrel into the infirmary, glasses askew and hair flying wildly in all directions, looking more agitated than I had ever seen him before. The second he spotted me, he made a beeline for my bed, not even bothering to wait to start rambling until he had actually reached it.

"Have you seen McKay? If this is joke, I am not amused! We are waiting for energy source to start calibrations and generator is getting close to overheating because of this delay!"

"Wow, easy there, doctor Z. Injured man here, just woken up…" I drawled. "And I haven't seen anyone except doctor Beckett and you yet…"

The little Czech suddenly looked very contrite as he only just now noticed the impressive array of medical paraphernalia blinking and blipping and dripping around my bed.

"Oh, I am very sorry, major…" He shrugged awkwardly. "I was just so excited about our project. Incorporating the energy source McKay managed to retrieve on that planet in Atlantean system could increase power output 10-fold…" He looked dreamily at the wall "Conceivably enough to activate shield…"

Well, that did sound impressive.

I suddenly had a new-found appreciation for McKay's stubborn tenancy to acquire the gadget. Only now did I fully understand why he had insisted it was worth the trouble and danger of retrieving it from a horde of angry natives. Why he had given little care for whatever it might cost us. And it seemed like it had been paid for dearly…

Anger born out of helplessness soared briefly. Why the hell hadn't McKay told me earlier that the funny looking doodad could very well be the key to safeguarding Atlantis from the swiftly approaching Wraith armada? The knowledge of what had been at stake would likely have kept me on my toes and would certainly have kept me from ignoring McKay.

Ignoring McKay...

Shame washed over me; a giant tsunami-like wave that swept me off the terra firma of my self-righteousness.

I _had_ ignored him, badly. I had been bone-tired from late-night strategy planning, and the last shred of tolerance for hyper science geeks had evaporated when McKay had dragged me from my comfy bed at 5.30 am for yet another 'mission of great potential scientific value'.

Which I then had viewed as babysitting McKay while he played idly in his sandbox: an utter waist of valuable time and resources we could have used to strengthen our defences.

But he had managed to convert Elizabeth, and no amount of objecting from me would cancel the mission. So I had trudged along, too bored and sulky to follow the quirky leaps of McKay's genius mind.

Oh, yes, he _had_ certainly kept reminding me of the utter importance of his gadget. Very vociferously, loudly and tediously.

Certainly, he had made several attempts to explain how the device could be integrated in the Atlantean system, but he had lost me somewhere between ionic impurities and condensator fluxes.

In hindsight, I could kick myself for my negligence.

Well, perhaps not _physically_ kick anymore…

I harrumphed, pulling Zelenka out of his reverie.

The scientist blinked owlishly, before saying in a soft voice: "I was in control room when McKay radioed in, sounding very out-of-breath. Said you were shot badly and requested emergency medical team standing by. Then told me to ready generators so we could start calibrating energy source as soon as possible."

He paused briefly and looked down at his feet. "I got equipment all set up, but he did not come. It took us 5 hours to ready system, but he didn't come bringing the device. Kavanaugh…" Zelenka frowned in disgust, "insists McKay is hiding somewhere, figuring out the device on his own so he can take all credit…"

But his incredulous tone plainly revealed he didn't believe that particular scenario one bit.

Neither did I.

Yes, McKay could be egocentric and arrogant like hell, he would never put personal gain before the safety of Atlantis. Stepping into the energy creature had driven that point home quite effectively.

Zelenka's eyes darted around the infirmary.

And I suddenly realised why he'd come looking in here, of all places.

The only reason McKay would not be all over the allegedly most exciting scientific discovery of the year, would be if he felt compelled to keep vigilance at my sickbed '.. if only to keep Carson's voodoo in check'.

Either that, or…

Zelenka's eyes homed in on the privacy curtains behind which Beckett was desperately trying to save a life.

McKay's life…

The realisation left no room for doubt, and something in my chest constricted painfully in response.

Damn you, Sheppard! Not the entire frickin' galaxy is revolving around _you_! Yet, the only thing you've been doing the whole time, is feeling sorry for yourself while Rodney…

"John?" The soft whisper pulled me out of my thoughts. I opened eyes I didn't remember closing.

Concerned green eyes were examining me while a slender hand gently squeezed mine.

Elizabeth.

Where had she come from so quietly so fast? Unless she had already been there…

I attempted a grin for her benefit, no doubt failing spectacularly since I felt a lot more like crying.

Her own smile was rather tremulous as well.

Her warm grip on my hand suddenly paused in mid-squeeze when the tell-tale sound of a defibrillator discharging echoed in the infirmary.

Instead of the reassuring beep-beep-beep of a restored heartbeat, one continuous high pitched tone stole my breath away.

Carson's voice, cool and collected, rose easily above the din, demanding attention, spouting of medical jargon, concerting a renewed rescue attempt on his friend.

In between occasionally uttering words that might cause his mother to get a spontaneous heart-attack…

A very bad sign. When the usually soft-hearted and calm physician felt compelled to delve into his none-too-shabby collection of cuss words, things were going downhill… fast. There was only one stage past that. The silence of defeat…

Elizabeth's eyes were wide as they stared unseeingly at the wall. Her stance motionless as if she were afraid that her moving would somehow influence the situation.

Zelenka on the contrary had squeezed his eyes shut tightly, his lips moving frantically as if in soundless prayer.

Me, I begged to every deity in 2 galaxies that Beckett wouldn't suddenly stop swearing. That the racket behind those privacy curtains wouldn't suddenly quieten down. That McKay's stubbornness would prevent him from giving up…

_Beep … beep… beep… beep… beep…_

Right there and then I couldn't possibly imagine any more beautiful sound in the entire Pegasus Galaxy.

The speed and urgency of Beckett's orders was slowly dwindling down. Zelenka opened his eyes and we shared a look of pure relief.

Elizabeth suddenly noticed the bruising grip she still had on my hand and quickly let go, giving me a half-sheepish, half-apologising look.

Smiling at her went considerably easier this time.

The adrenaline still rushed through my body, waking up some particularly lethargic brain cells.

"What happened to McKay?" I whispered urgently, the concern for my team mate and quite possibly best friend temporarily pushing away my own physical discomfort.

Elizabeth dropped down on my bed with a heavy sigh, rubbing her forehead briefly with a shaky hand, before meeting my eyes.

"Three hours ahead of schedule, Rodney opened a wormhole and radioed in sounding panicked and breathless, asking for a medical team on standby when he would get through the gate within a couple of minutes. He said something about having to get rid of some enemy activity around the gate first, but it was difficult to understand with all the shooting at the background. At a given moment, we even thought we heard some sort of explosion over the open radio channel, and a minute later Rodney stumbled out of the wormhole, dragging you along and screaming for Carson to save you. While Carson proceeded to do just that, Rodney slid down to sit propped up against the stargate. It took me too long to realise he had passed out cold, and that not all of the blood on his uniform was yours…"

Elizabeth looked sad and somewhat guilty, but I was sure she didn't feel like one millionth of the _ass_ as I did at that moment.

I still didn't understand what had happened exactly, but I got the sinking suspicion I had made a couple of serious misassumptions somewhere along the road.

The tight feeling in my chest became unbearable. Something squeezed my heart with chilling force, and air suddenly seemed elusive.

A high-pitched tone was the last thing I was aware of before gleeful darkness swallowed me whole.

-


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Last part coming right up... Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!_

_AN2: If I remember correctly, TV-Rodney_ does _like blue Jell-O._ My _Rodney however doesn't, for continuity reasons with my other stories_ :-)

**-**

**3**

**-**

The next thing I became aware of were familiar whispering voices, nearby enough to listen into their conversation.

"He got shot two times. One projectile went straight through his upper leg causing mainly muscle damage. The other one was a nasty bugger. Got stuck in his chest after breaking a rib and nicking his right lung. It took us quite a while to remove it, track down all the bleeders and reinflate the collapsed part of the lung. He's lost quite a few pints of blood there, but we've given him a couple of units and some IV drips to replenish his fluids…"

Beckett sounded exhausted, but there was a definite optimism colouring his brogue as he continued. "Oh, he's as stubborn a lad as I've ever seen. Pulled it through surgery against all odds. He's not completely out of the woods yet, but after what I've seen I've got good hopes we'll get him back to his crabbit old self within a couple of weeks."

"Thank you, Carson." The relief in Elizabeth's voice was unmistakable. "And how is Major Sheppard doing?"

Beckett's smile was evident in his words as he replied: "The arrhythmia has all but disappeared. His heart rate's completely back to normal, and his blood chemistry is getting there as well. All in all, the lad's very lucky to be alive…"

Soft footsteps announced the arrival of a third person.

"I have called off testing of the device. I found small incomplete piece in McKay's vest, looks like taken apart for some reason but I don't know what he used other part, the actual power source, for." Zelenka reported.

"I'm sorry, Radek. I tried to radio you, but I couldn't get through…" Elizabeth said apologising.

"Probably the build-up of electromagnetic field around coils interfered with radio-communication." Though I kept my eyes closed, I could vividly imagine Zelenka nodding, his hair bobbing along merrily.

"Then," Elizabeth continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "I asked one of the technicians to run to the lab and tell you in person, but forgot to tell him which lab exactly… I suppose I wasn't thinking very clearly…"

Zelenka huffed softly: "If I had just watched Major Sheppard bleed all over control room and then Rodney pass out unexpectedly I wouldn't even have thought about telling bunch of scientists to stop expecting newest toy… It was just small failure of communication, no harm done."

Failure of communication.

What had happened between McKay and me had definitely been a failure of communication, and one of epic proportions.

And the broken link had been on my side.

I'd focussed on my own situation, completely tuning out his side of the action.

It seemed like the veil that had been distorting my view was suddenly lifted, and for the first time that day I saw things as they had really been.

McKay hadn't really disobeyed my order to get through the gate. Hell, he wasn't even military to start with and Lord knows he takes even the most stringent of orders as a _suggestion_ at best.

And I could hardly fault him for doing the exact same thing I would have done in his position. Backtrack to save a team mate who had unexpectedly fallen back.

No matter how lucky I had been that neither of my gunshot wounds had been irrevocably lethal, if McKay hadn't shown up when he had to drag my ass out of the line of fire, I had been treated to a nice up-close meeting with a small army of pissed-of gun-wielding natives.

And he hadn't come back just to make sure that his precious device made it through the gate either. He could have taken it and left me behind at any point, which would have vastly improved his own chances of outrunning our chasers.

In fact, I had a murky suspicion about the fate of Zelenka's missing piece of the alien doohickey. The power source. The part that goes _kaboom_ the easiest when you tinker with it. Creating a perfect diversion to allow you time to reach a stargate while dragging an uncooperative body along…

I recalled McKay's sudden rapid changing of directions right before we had supposedly fallen into a hole. In hindsight, it seemed less like getting lost and much more losing our tail long enough so McKay could keep me from bleeding to death.

Vague memories of a pressure bandage and a morphine injection I had somehow managed to see as a nuisance rather than my rescue…

And then there was the whole endlessly-outrunning-the-natives part that had seemed pretty much the main theme of my memories. McKay weirdly keeping my body in front of him so his back would shield the most vital parts of my body.

Getting shot for his trouble. I had the sneaky suspicion that particular event had coincided with his sudden staggering I had ascribed to clumsiness.

Goddamned.

I had even been toying with the idea to add endurance running to McKay's workout all the while when the man had been making _very_ decent speed, especially consider he had been seriously _injured_.

I distinctly remembered his Rambo-impersonation at the end. It wasn't such an ironic description as I had thought just then. After all, doesn't Rambo keep shooting the bad guys despite accumulating a collection of gruesome injuries himself? Adrenaline had a lot to answer for that, but still…

One image floated to the front of my mind's eye.

A pair of blue eyes. Terrified, but filled with so much determination, part stubbornness and part dedication. Some may call it quiet courage. But the words McKay and quiet don't really work in the same sentence.

I read somewhere that courage is not the absence of fear, but the strength to carry on _despite_ the fear.

For most people, fear clouds their judgement. They panic and react on an instinctive, visceral level rather than an intellectual level. And self-preservation is the strongest instinct of all.

Soldiers are being conditioned to try to ignore fear. It's what all the macho bragging and tasteless jokes are about. You try not to show the others you're frightened as hell. You fool them into thinking you're fearless. And after a while you even start believing it yourself.

And when you find yourself on the battlefield near your injured buddy, you allow your training to take over, assess injuries and hostility activity, calculating the odds to get both of you out there alive.

But when a mother sees her child is dying, she doesn't think. She doesn't need training. She doesn't need experience. She doesn't assess odds and she doesn't care about getting out herself. The only thing she cares for is getting her child to safety.

McKay doesn't have much experience. He hasn't ever had military training apart from some very basic survival techniques. But he has that same instinct that allows a man to push away his own fears to save his brother…

I suddenly felt smaller than an ant. Just about the right size to conveniently crush myself under my shoe.

McKay had been right, as usual. I had been a complete idiot.

But I refused to believe there was no cure for idiocy, no redemption for dim-witted airforce majors who think they have the monopoly on pulling silly stunts to get their friends out of trouble.

My feet had swung out of bed before it registered with my brain.

So, not exactly paralysed, huh.

That, however, was no more than a fleeting thought brushed aside quickly to allow me to focus on my goal: the privacy curtains at the end of the infirmary.

It might just as well have been the end of the North Pier, as I stumbled along, weak as a newborn foal with shaky legs to match, desperately clinging to the IV stand to keep me from hugging the infirmary floor.

I know sheer stubbornness was part of the reason that kept me upright. However, by far the biggest part was fear. Fear that when I'd round those curtains, there would only be an empty bed to break my heart.

But the bed wasn't empty. It contained Rodney doing his best Sleeping Beauty impersonation, the serene image marred by several IV lines sneaking out from under the blankets and a spectacular bruise on his left cheek.

And the presence of two gunshot wounds hiding beneath crisp white sheets.

God, I had been such a complete _idiot_…

I only realised I had said the latter part out loud when McKay's eyes fluttered open, revealing the unfocussed gaze of the heavily drugged.

He blinked a few times at me, before his eyes drooped all the way again.

I first assumed he hadn't been conscious enough to recognize me.

I should know better by now not to assume anything concerning McKay.

"Sh'ppurrrd…" The softly slurred word had the same effect of surprise as the sudden detonation of a minor atomic bomb. I nearly lost my grip on the IV stand and barely managed to shuffle one pace over to a conveniently placed chair before my shaky knees gave away completely.

I held my breath for 30 seconds.

But, luckily the heavy thump hadn't been loud enough to alert any nurses or doctors of my escape. It had, however, startled McKay into opening his eyes again.

Like before, his eyes were darting around slightly, never really seeming to focus on me but at least now he got it right half of the time. Just as I was beginning to feel uncomfortable enough under his silent scrutiny to actually call one of the aforementioned nurses, he whispered again. "You're right…"

Huh?

"Right about what, McKay?" I asked, nonplussed.

The small smug grin on his face felt so radiant to me it faded away the bruises and the sickly pallor of his skin. "You _are_ an idiot… For ordering me to leave you on that godforsaken planet. For moaning and bitching at your rescuer during our entire escape."

Apparently, I was having a serious problem with keeping my thoughts from verbalising.

"Yes, you did, still have actually." McKay deadpanned and I couldn't help but briefly wonder if he had become a mind-reader somehow, just before it occurred to me that –yet again- I had in fact spoken my previous thought out loud as well.

"I'm not." He answered, and his grin became bigger. "Apparently, you're having what Carson calls an 'interesting disinhibitory reaction to an indigenous component of the projectiles you got shot with'".

He took pity on my look of utter confusion and continued: "I'm surmising it is voodoo-lingo for 'some alien substance that coated the bullets caused some of your inhibitions to disappear, most notably your control over which thoughts you're going to vocalise. In simpleton parlance: You're blurting out pretty much everything that comes to your mind."

He paused briefly. "Carson said that the substance is rapidly clearing from your bloodstream though and that you should be back to your normal inhibited self within a couple of hours".

Huh?

Focussing very hard on keeping my mouth shut, I processed the idea.

Hell yes, it sounded frickin' weird. But then again, this _was_ the Pegasus galaxy, and weirdness seemed pretty common here.

Besides, it gave me a great excuse for what I did next.

"McKay?"

"Hmmm." The Canadian's eyes were half-closed and ready to give into the pull of sleep again.

"I'm sorry for whatever I may have said earlier… on that planet. For thinking you were screwing up when you were in fact risking your life to save me. For not trusting you… I'm sorry…"

McKay weakly waved one hand, as if brushing the subject away. "You don't have to apologize, Sheppard. Firstly, that alien drug seriously twisted your mind. It induced major paranoia and distorted your world view. Secondly, we all have I-hate-the-world-days and believe me… " His lips curled into a tiny smirk. "… I intimately know the joys of taking it out verbally on said world – or however tends to be closest. And thirdly, no matter what you said or thought, you _did_ trust me. You trusted me on a level deeper than mere superficial thought."

His gaze was intense as our eyes met fully and unwaveringly for the first time.

"You went through the gate with me, only me, without taking Elizabeth's offer to add 2 marines to the team to temporarily replace Teyla and Ford. And you didn't decline just because you like being recalcitrant, or because you suspected it would be an 'easy mission'. You know as well as I do that every time we step through that gate, all hell can break loose instantly. You trusted _me_ to cover your back if that would happen…"

I smiled back. "And you did."

He twitched his nose and huffed: "Duh!" before closing his eyes and wriggling a little deeper in his pillow.

Clearly, it was the highest time we went back to 'manly interactions', instead of this touchy-feely psychoanalysing stuff.

"Hear, hear…" McKay mumbled sleepily and I grinned ruefully, not too mad at my temporary mind-mouth hotlink any more.

I gave McKay's hand a soft squeeze "Thanks…"

For saving me, for not dying on me, for forgiving me, for trusting me… The list went on, but no other word left my lips apart from 'thanks'.

"You're welcome." McKay yawned and promptly fell asleep.

I trust McKay to know the list.

* * *

_**-**_

**Epilogue**

**-**

Nurse Mae is a legend, with a will as hard as diamond where many a marine has broken his teeth on, but a heart of pure gold.

And, for some peculiar reason, she has always been particularly fond of McKay.

"Doctor McKay, please, allow me to help you sit up. The more you allow your body to rest, the sooner you'll be up and saving us all again."

McKay grumbles something unintelligible, trying not to look pleased with the last part of her sentence, and complied.

For about 15 seconds I'm baffled, and in complete awe for the nurse, then I start grinning widely as McKay resumes his complaining: "What's _thát_ supposed to be?"

"Blue Jell-O." The nurse replies kindly, not in the least taking offence by his condescending tone.

Here we go again.

"I don't like _blue_ Jell-O." McKay whines.

I duck my head behind my laptop to hide the huge grin on my face.

It wouldn't bode well for the temperature of my morning shower water if McKay noticed my amusement at his expense.

"Sheppard!"

Damn. Seems he caught me.

Still, it never hurts to play innocent.

Trust the man who has patented the innocent bemused look.

"Huh, McKay, what's up?"

He's contemplating me suspiciously even as I continue to type.

"What are you doing back there anyway? Playing Solitaire? The Sims? World of Warcraft?" McKay asks in a huff.

"I'm writing my mission report, McKay." I answer off-handed. "You can have my dessert, if you want."

It's a peace offer.

Hey, I appreciate a quick warm soak in the morning as much as the next man.

McKay seems mollified.

Nurse Mae however isn't.

"You can't have pie yet, dr. McKay. Dr. Beckett specifically ordered fluid foods only."

McKay sputters. "Well, I'll tell him… Where is our esteemed medicine man hiding? Tell him to stop reading sheep entrails and start looking after his famished patient!"

Time to finish up typing this story, settle back and fake a nap, before McKay lures me into choosing sides during the unavoidable argument with Beckett.

For the sake of my shower water's temperature.

It hadn't been hell, being rescued by McKay.

In fact, it had been 'being rescued from hell'…

Though my idea of heaven is slightly different from our current situation in the infirmary, it definitely includes a bright-eyed bushy-tailed McKay. Preferably a quiet one, but I'll settle for less.

Semper fi.

Trust McKay to disobey me.

The day he'll follow my orders doesn't seem to be anywhere near in the future.

And for that, I am extremely grateful.

For when that day would come, I might die for real…


End file.
